


The Thing

by dreamsofspike



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean discovers that Castiel has a very strange fear...</p><p>Warnings: excessive schmoop and cuddling? :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing

Dean was lying on his back on the cheap motel mattress. Cas was lying beside him on his stomach, his stocking feet resting against the headboard, fully engrossed in the novel he’d borrowed from Sam before they left. They’d been gone for less than a day, and he was already half-finished with it. Dean smiled, thinking that it figured, after spending most of his life with only his brother for company, that he’d end up with a guy who was an even bigger nerd than Sammy.

 

Dean scanned through the channels, skipping over a half dozen different infomercials, a couple of late night talk shows, and several music video channels. He was swiftly growing bored, his mind turning toward other ways of occupying their time, when he landed accidentally on a 24-hour children’s station which happened to be airing an old episode of _Sesame Street_.

 

“Oh, Cas.” Dean nudged Cas’s hip with his knee. “Look. There, those two. Watch them for _thirty seconds_ and _tell me_ they aren’t gay.”

 

Cas obediently looked up at the yellow and orange puppets on the screen, his head tilting slightly with mild curiosity as he watched. “They do seem to have a bond that could be read as somewhat more than strictly platonic,” he agreed after a moment, nodding at Dean and glancing back to the screen, already shifting his book in his hands and preparing to return his attention to it.

 

And then, the “Bert and Ernie” segment was over, and _Sesame Street_ moved on to a new sketch – and something that felt like a localized earthquake seemed to strike in the direct vicinity of the bed, as the mattress abruptly shifted and creaked and lurched dangerously and Cas’s foot somehow found its way into Dean’s ribs, and he found himself knocked unceremoniously onto the floor on his ass. Dean looked up in confusion at Cas, who was still on the bed, but had scrambled up to a crouched position, his back pressed up against the headboard, eyes wide and terrified as he stared at the television screen in unmasked horror.

 

“Cas, what the _hell_?” Dean complained as he pushed himself up on the side of the bed and stood facing his newly human partner with indignation. “What’s _wrong_ with you?”

 

“ _Dean_!” Cas’s voice was a low, thin hiss of panic, his saucer-shaped eyes never leaving the screen. “Dean, what – what _is_ that – _thing_?”

 

Bewildered, Dean turned his attention toward the television, even more confused when all he saw was arguably the most adorable of _Sesame Street_ ’s puppets, holding up a purple block in one hand and a purple flower in the other, smiling sweetly at his (mostly) adoring audience.

 

“It’s a puppet, Cas,” Dean explained, trying for patient and coming off a little frustrated. “Just a cute, cuddly little…”

 

“That thing is _not_ cute,” Cas declared. “That thing is _dreadful_ …”

 

Dean frowned, realizing abruptly that when _Cas_ used a word like “dreadful” he meant it in the true, original sense of the term – as in, filling him with genuine _dread_. He softened, his frustration draining away when he saw that Cas was trembling, his knees drawn up in front of him and his head resting in his folded arms.

 

Stifling a sigh, Dean sat down beside Cas, pulling the blankets up around them both. He half-expected Cas to flinch away when Dean put his arm around him, but Cas didn’t move. Dean let out his breath with relief. Well, that made this a _little_ easier. Cas was 100% certain of _exactly_ what it was he was scared of, and at least it _wasn’t_ Dean.

 

It was… _Elmo_.

 

“Turn it off.” Cas’s voice was muffled against his knees. “Dean, _turn it off_.”

 

Dean glanced around for the remote automatically, but didn’t see it anywhere. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning every ounce of his patience, as he replied in a quiet, level voice, “Well, I would, Cas, but you must have sent the remote flying when you – sent _me_ flying. Okay? _Cas_. Look up. Look at me, all right?”

 

“I’ll look up once that _thing_ is _gone_ ,” Cas stated, and Dean knew him well enough by now to know that his mind was stubbornly set, and he wasn’t going to be giving in any time soon.

 

“Okay,” Dean conceded. “Just a second.” He turned to get up from the bed, removing his arm from around Cas’s shoulders.

 

Cas’s hand shot out and gripped Dean’s sleeve, yanking him back down onto the bed, his voice fierce and commanding. “ _No_.”

 

“Cas,” Dean tried again, patiently. “Do you want me here, or do you want it off?”

 

“ _Both_ ,” Cas insisted stubbornly.

 

Dean glanced at the screen, noting that the sketch had already been going for nearly a minute. From what little he remembered of _Sesame Street_ , he was pretty sure it had to be nearly over.

 

“Okay, then,” he relented with a sigh, sitting back down and putting his arm around Cas again, something inside him melting when Cas turned into his embrace, favoring Dean’s side instead of his own knees as a hiding place for his traumatized eyes. “We’ll just have to wait a few seconds, then, okay?”

 

Cas was quiet for a long moment, clearly torn. Finally, his hands fisted in Dean’s shirt, jerking him closer as if in warning against _daring_ to _try_ to leave him again. “ _Fine_ ,” he snapped, clearly unhappy with this state of affairs, but settling for the least frightening option.

 

When the show went to commercial, Dean ran a soothing hand through Cas’s hair. “Okay, it’s gone,” he assured him, rolling his eyes a little at himself as he added, “It’s safe to look now.”

 

Cas cautiously raised his head, glancing at the screen to confirm Dean’s report before looking up at Dean with solemn, unhappy eyes. “What _was_ that thing?” he demanded.

 

“It’s a _puppet_ , Cas,” Dean insisted. “Just like the others. You weren’t scared of Bert and Ernie…”

 

“Bert and Ernie aren’t that unnatural color,” Cas argued. “With those large, strangely unstable eyes, and that _voice_ … it’s extremely… off-putting.”

 

“ _Really_?” Dean couldn’t hold back the sharp bark of laughter that escaped his lips. “ _You’re_ gonna freak out over somebody’s _voice? That_ voice?”

 

Cas frowned, drawing back a little.. “What’s wrong with my voice?” he demanded, defensive.

 

“Not – _your_ voice, your – well, your _real_ voice – never mind.” Dean gave up with a heavy sigh. “C’mere, Cas.”

 

Cas was a little resistant – embarrassed, offended and verging on pouting – but when Dean tugged him closer, Cas gave in willingly enough, wrapping his arms tight around Dean’s waist and burying his face in Dean’s shoulder this time. Dean held Cas closer, brushing his lips against his hair, and settled in against the headboard, pulling Cas down with him in his arms.

 

“Don’t worry, Cas,” he said in a hushed, soothing voice, allowing himself a little smirk over Cas’s shoulder. Cas didn’t do so well with subtlety. As long as Dean kept his voice even, he figured he could get away with it. “I’ll protect you from the nasty, scary puppet.”

 

Cas’s thumb jabbing into Dean’s ribs told Dean that he’d been made.

 

“I know, I know,” Dean murmured. “I’m an assbutt, aren’t I?”

 

Cas jabbed him again, harder.

 

“Okay,” Dean chuckled softly, running a hand through Cas’s hair again as if smoothing ruffled feathers. “Shutting up now.” He was silent for a moment, stroking Cas’s back in slow, soothing circles. When he spoke again, his voice, though touched with amusement, was hushed and tender. “I’ve gotcha, Cas,” he murmured. “Don’t be scared. I’ve gotcha.”


End file.
